


Movement

by ssa_archivist



Series: Movement [1]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2002-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-01 11:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark helps Lex deal with fear and self-doubt following Cassandra's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movement

## Movement

by Jade

[]()

* * *

Disclaimer: They're not mine. 

Note: This was originally posted as five stories: Falling, Being Caught, Holding On, Running and Standing. I've put them together because I felt they worked better this way and that in the end they really were different parts of the same story and not separate stories in themselves. 

Note II: For Taryn, my good friend. Aren't you glad I corrupted you? 

Acknowledgement: To Cristina who betaed this for me, thanks for all your hard work. 

* * *

Oh my god, I killed her, I killed her. It keeps running through my mind in an endless litany of accusation. I killed her. Whatever she saw in my future was so awful, so terrifying that it killed her. God, what kind of monster will I be, what kind of monster am I already? 

She died holding my hand. I look down sharply and see that I'm still unconsciously rubbing my hand up and down on my pants as if I can somehow wipe this taint of evil off myself in that way. I don't consciously decided to leave, but suddenly I realize that I'm running out of the building. I have to get away from her and myself and whatever it is that's in my future. My mind is racing and time is no longer holding together properly. 

I'm evil, I'm a monster, I will be a monster. I killed Cassandra, a nice old lady who only wanted to help people find their way through life. She died. Because of me. I've touched a dead person. It's my fault. My future killed her. Oh god. Oh shit, he's going to know. I don't know how, but suddenly I know that Clark had been there. I must have seen him before I left and not registered it properly before now. He'll know. That I killed her with my future. So horrible. I'm so horrible. 

"Lex?" someone asks. Close to me, too close. I stumble backwards and look up. It's Graham, the butler. He's staring at me with a shocked expression and I know I must look like hell. I don't remember arriving home, hell I don't even remember driving here. 

"I'm fine," I mutter harshly and push past him as he starts towards me. I stumble up the stairs and into my bedroom. 

I feel dirty and itchy everywhere. This evil, guilty feeling is crawling over my skin. It's horrible and I shiver in revulsion. I want to jump out of my skin, but I'll settle for a good hot shower. I strip off my clothing unceremoniously. I hear something rip in the process but I don't care. I can replace whatever it is later. 

I stumble jerkily into my bathroom and turn on the shower. I run the hot water only at first but at the last moment think better of my self-destructive impulse and turn on enough cold so that my skin won't blister. It's still damn hot though and when I step under the spray it burns. The pain is good; it reminds me that I'm still human. Maybe. Maybe human. 

I feel like screaming or crying but I haven't done either in years. Instead I close my eyes and place my head directly under the showerhead, letting the hot water try to wash away this creeping evil. After a few moments I start to scrub my body with the expensive soap that I always insist on. If I can only wash the feeling of her off my skin, maybe the guild would start to disappear as well. 

I stay in the shower for a good twenty minutes. When I finally shut off the water my skin is dark red and my fancy bar of soap is nothing more than a sliver. I still feel dirty even though I know that I'm probably the cleanest man in Smallville right now. I dry myself with a big soft towel that's shockingly white against my reddened skin, toss the heavy material in the corner and walk back out into my bedroom. 

I see him right away. He's sitting on the small, dark blue sofa I have in the room with a pile of my now neatly folded clothing beside him. He looks a lot less agitated than I expected, although he is starting to flush slightly, probably because I just walking into the room naked. But how was I supposed to know he would be here? Besides it's my room, damn it. 

"I... I'm sorry," he stammers and his flush spreads across his face and down his neck. 

"Don't worry," I say with a good more nonchalance than I feel. I grab my robe from the chair I left it on this morning and wrap myself in it. 

"How are you doing?" he asks from where he's sitting although I can tell that he's itching to come and try to comfort me. 

I shrug and turn away from him. His gaze is too pure, too innocent and it just reminds me how dirty I am. I make a show of opening my closet and selecting new clothing. 

"Graham said you came home in quite the daze," Clark presses. 

"I'm fine," I snap. But I'm not and we both know it. I reach into the closet and randomly grab a sweater. It's blue. It snags on the hanger and I hear it tear. "Fuck," I growl and throw the offending garment to the ground. It's coming apart; it's all coming apart. I feel unsteady suddenly and have to reach out and brace myself on the wall to keep standing. 

"It's not your fault," Clark says softly from behind me. Time must have gotten away from me again because I don't remember hearing him coming up behind me but now his hands are on my shoulders and I know that he's trying to comfort me. It just makes the creepy, itchy feeling become more pronounced. 

"You don't know that," I growl. I expect him to step back, most people do when I use that tone, but he doesn't. Clark's stubborn. I like that about him. 

"Lex, she was old. Old people die. It wasn't your fault." 

I slam my fist into the wall and spin to face my young friend. "God damn it Clark," I snap, "Don't you get it? She was reading my future and whatever she saw was so horrible, so terrible that it killed her. I killed her. My future. I'm going to be some kind of monster!" I'm yelling by the end. I'm shaking. My face is wet. I reach up and touch my cheek and, oh god, I'm crying. And then Clark has my elbow and he's leading me over to the bed and sitting us both down on the edge. 

"I don't believe that Lex. She was an old lady, it was just her time," Clark says softly. His voice is full of warmth and comfort. 

"It's true," I gasp and sniffle a little louder than I expected. I'm still crying and it feels strangely good to allow the emotions out. 

"Even if it were Lex, and I don't believe that it is, it still wouldn't be your fault. You're not the one who cursed her with blindness and foresight," Clark says empathically. 

He's so sure that this isn't my fault but I know it is. I'm going to be horrific. It's always been my fate and I hate my father for it. His name. His business. His lessons. And I've always just taken it, accepted it. My destiny. I don't want it. 

"I don't want to be like my father," I suddenly burst out. I feel Clark's arms come around me in response and briefly struggle to escape his grip. He's stronger than I expect and manages to hang on to me. 

"You aren't your father," he reminds me softly and starts to rub soothing circles on my back with one of his hands. It feels good, too good for someone like me. Right then I know that I don't deserve a friend like Clark but I'm so glad that he's there for me. 

"Everyone says we're the same," I point out tiredly. It's true. I've always been compared with him. I'm been told before that I remind people of him. I've never felt proud of that, but I've always thought they were probably right. 

"Well then everyone's wrong. I know you, Lex. I know you want to be a good person, you just don't always know how to do it. Let me help you figure that out," Clark offers. 

He's so giving. How many other people do I know who would offer me something like that and expect nothing in return? None, that's how many. 

"You'll help me change my future?" I ask him. 

"Of course," he says like it was simply a given. "You're my friend." 

It's suddenly as if all the fear and tension have left my body and I slump deeper into his embrace. Everything is fine now. I know he will make it better. He'll save me once more from myself. "Thank you," I whisper. 

Clark gives me a tight hug in response. I feel more tired then I can ever remember. All these complicated emotions have worn me out. Clark seems to sense it as well because almost as soon as I feel it, he's helping me lie down on the bed. He manages to maneuver me into a comfortable position on my side rather easily and I marvel at his strength. When I'm settled he moves to get up, presumably to leave me alone to sleep but I place my hand on his arm and stop his movement. 

"Please," I plead, "I don't want to be alone." 

Clark looks steadily at me for a moment and then smiles softly and nods. "I know how that feels," he says. 

"Thank you," I say softly and then close my eyes. I honestly don't feel like I could keep them open a moment longer. 

I feel Clark lay down behind me and again wrap his arm around my body to hold me loosely. I sigh and feel myself drift off into sleep. I know he'll protect me even there. 

* * *

I wake up and I immediately know that I'm not alone in my bed. That's nice, it's been a while since I woke up with anyone else. That's when the first sense of strangeness hits me because it is my bed and I've never before brought anyone back to my own bed. I'm used to waking up in strange places, be them my partner's beds or hotel rooms. Bringing someone back to my own bed has always felt like too much of a commitment somehow. 

I can see that the arms around me are male. That isn't new but it is uncommon, especially lately. Since I was banished to Smallville. I tense up because I suddenly remember how I became to be in bed with... Clark? 

That question is confirmed a moment later when the large warm body behind me stirs and he speaks. "Mmm, Lex you okay?" he mutters sleepily in my ear. My movement when I tensed up must have alerted him to something wrong and caused him to wake. 

"I'm good," I tell him not wanting to let on how unsettled I feel by the memory of letting him see so much of myself earlier. 

"Good," he mutters sleepily and briefly tightens the arm he has wrapped around my middle. 

His hand has slipped under my robe as we slept and as he tightens his hold it travels lightly across my chest. I shiver slightly at the feelings that movement elicits in me. God, Clark's just a kid, he shouldn't be able to do this to me. 

"You're cold," Clark states in response to my shiver. Oh how innocent he is sometimes. I really should do something about that. He sits up, reaches for the blanket at the end of the bed and pulls it up over us. 

"What time is it?" he asks as he settles down behind me again. There's a hint of surprise in his voice and I guess that he must be worried that it's late. 

I glance down at the clock on the bedside table and discover that it is indeed late, later than I would have guessed. "It's after eleven," I tell him. 

"Damn," Clark says with a sigh. I almost laugh. It's as close to a curse as I've ever heard him come. I manage to hold it in though and not mortify my young friend. "My parents won't be happy, tomorrow's a school day." 

I do smile slightly at that but am glad that my face is obscured from Clark so that he can't see it. He's such a good son, plays by the rules that I would have gladly broken, worries about his parents concern for his safety. We're so different and we're drawn together like only polar opposites can be. 

"Let me get dressed and then I'll drive you home," I say and then reluctantly slip from his arms and stand up. 

"You don't have to do that," he calls after me as I move towards the closet to grab some clothing. 

"No," I agree as I open one of the doors, "but I want to. Besides what kind of friend would I be if I sent you home alone in the dark?" Honestly I don't want to let him go yet and driving him home allows me to hold onto him for just a little while longer. I pull a pair of black pants and a gray sweater out of the closer. I briefly consider changing in front of him, after all he's already seen me naked earlier, but quickly decide not to tempt his teenaged embarrassment. I head into the bathroom to quickly change. 

I catch sight of myself in the mirror while I'm pulling on my pants and am rather shocked by what I see. My eyes are red and slightly swollen and I look like I've been crying. I haven't seen myself like this since before the meteor shower twelve years ago. It brings back memories of everything that happened this afternoon. 

"Shit," I mumble and slap my hand down on the counter. No matter what Clark says I know it was the vision of my future that killed Cassandra. Me. I'm the person, the monster, who killed Cassandra. I know Clark thinks he can change me, help me change the future Cassandra saw for me. I know he'll try and I know I'll let him. He sees something good in me that no one else, even myself, can see. I only wish I could believe that he is right. I turn on the tap roughly and rinse my face with cold water. It's cool and refreshing but doesn't do much for my appearance except make my skin shockingly white. I give up the possibility of looking any less haggard and finish dressing. 

Clark is sitting on the edge of my bed waiting for me when I come out. Seeing him there looking at me with so much concern makes my stomach lurch. I've never had a friend like him and I think that even if I lived another hundred years I would never have a friend like him again. Besides, he looks damn hot sitting there in his sleep-rumpled clothes. I wish I didn't have to let him go home or that he wasn't so young and innocent. 

"You okay?" he asks. The concern that's so obvious on his face seeps into his voice. 

Shit, he can tell what happened in the bathroom, that all the fear and pain came rushing back. I can only imagine how he manages to know me so well. "I'm fine," I tell him although I know that he won't believe me. 

"I was serious, Lex," he tells me. "I know you can be a good person and I want to help you become the person you want to be." 

His sincerity makes me feel ashamed for no reason I can explain. "I know," I tell him. 

"But you don't believe," he states. He's sure of his analysis of me and so am I. 

"I want to but...," I shrug not truly knowing why I don't believe. 

"It's okay," he assures me. He stands up and moves across the room towards me. I know he's going to touch me but I can't allow him to because I know that if he does I won't be able to let him leave my room tonight. 

I step aside, out of his reach, and he looks at me with questions in his eyes. Why won't I let him in? Why won't I trust him? Aren't we friends? And how is he to know that he's definitely the best friend I've ever had, possibly the only friend I've ever had? 

"It's okay," he says again as he looks intently at me. "I believe enough for both of us and eventually I'll get you to believe as well." 

I nod slowly. He's so innocent, so hopeful in the goodness of human nature. It just might be enough to save both of us from me. Maybe. 

"You're ready to leave?" he asks eventually. I wonder if he thinks I've lost it. I'm normally so in control and tonight he could lead me around to do almost anything. His question breaks the tension in the room though. I take a deep breath and manage to get back into a semblance of control. 

"Yes," I say with more confidence than I've had since Cassandra's death. I stride over to the neatly folded pile of clothing on the sofa and pull my car keys out of the pocket on the pants I was wearing earlier. I pocket them and then turn back to look at Clark with a grin. "Let's go," I say and head out of the room. 

I hear but don't need to see him following me. I know he'll be there, right behind me. 

We're quiet as I drive him home. I watch him out of the corner of my eye and I catch him glancing my way more than once. He only notices the last time however and when our eyes lock together he smiles shyly and flushes. I wonder at that. In the last seven or eight hours I've been more intimate with him then I can ever remember being with anyone else and yet he's still shy when I catch him looking at me. How... Clark. 

I deliberately drive slower and a good deal more carefully than normal. I do it partly because of the concern Clark expressed for my safety the other day and partly because I don't want to take chances with his safety. He's too important to loose because I'm being stupid and burning off testosterone. Not to mention that if I even put a mark on him his father would fucking kill me. 

When I pull up in front of his house, we can both see the light on in the living room and the shadowy figure that could only be Clark's father in the window. Okay, it's definitely not good if Mr. Kent is pissed because Clark's late and all he was doing was helping me. At the same time it's kind of nice to know that his parents love him enough to wait up for him when he's late. My own father never cared about my late night escapades unless they could embarrass him in some way. 

We look at each other at the same time. He looks less worried than I would have expected but still a little unsure. 

"Do you want me to come in with you?" I ask him. Not something I'm looking forward to, but I would do it for him. 

"No," he says with a shake of his head. "It would probably be better if...," he cuts himself off before he can finish and I know he's thought better of what he was going to say. It's true though so I say it for him. 

"Better if I don't come in? I know. Your father doesn't like me too much." 

"Sorry," he says with more than a hint of sadness in his voice. 

"Don't be," I assure him. "He has his reasons." 

We sit there awkwardly for a few moments before he mumbles that he should go in. He has the door unlatched before I speak up. 

"Clark?" 

"Yes?" He turns back to look at me. 

"Thanks for everything." 

"You're welcome," he returns with a genuine smile. 

"I'm going to take you up on your offer." 

"I hope so." He smiles and then there is nothing more to say. 

He's halfway out of the car when he apparently changes his mind. He turns around, leans over the center of the car and kisses me gently half on the cheek and half on the mouth. Then quicker than I can react he's out of the car and half way up the porch steps. God how can he move so fast? 

I touch my face where his lips so recently were and smile. Maybe Clark isn't as innocent as I thought after all. 

* * *

I haven't seen Clark since that day, over a week ago now, that I broke down in front of him and he had to pick up the pieces. At first I thought that it was only a coincidence, he was busy at the farm, I was busy with work, but in the last few days I've become convinced that our separation is deliberate. Martha delivered my produce this week and that should have tipped me off right away that something was up but Martha assured me Clark was okay, just a little 'under the weather' as she called it. Of course I believed her, Clark taught me how to start trusting again, at least a little bit, and the last person I expected to lie to me was a Kent, but she did. 

I started getting more concerned in the days following Martha's visit. It was just a little twitch at the back of my mind that told me that all was not right. I hated to doubt Martha because it felt too much like doubting Clark, but I just couldn't let it go. So I searched out Clark's little friends at the Beanery and discovered that Clark was not sick at all. He was grounded for staying out late on a school night, which of course makes it my fault because if I hadn't been a complete wreck after Cassandra's death Clark would never have gone home late. Not to mention that his father had to have known Clark was with me since I drove him home. Mr. Kent doesn't like me anymore now than when we first met and I know he doesn't really approve of Clark spending time with me. 

So I'm not happy and I want to see Clark, which explains why I'm hanging out in the Kent's barn at nine in the evening with only Clark's telescope for company. Of course I could just be insane, which is something I've seriously considered during the last hour I've been here freezing my ass off. But I need to see Clark because we're friends but also because I need to know what his kiss in the car meant. It's driven me nuts over the last week and a half. I've been hornier than I can remember being in years and I can't get the image of him leaning over me in the car out of my mind. 

Finally I hear Clark arrive. I knew he would show up eventually; to peak at Lana's house, no doubt. I check my watch. It's nine-twenty. Shit, I've been out here for an hour and a half. Not to mention the fifteen-minute walk from where I parked my car, a walk in good shoes I might add which now smell of things I would rather not contemplate. 

I step out of the shadows just as he's coming up the steps. It's dark but I suspect Clark has excellent vision and he doesn't disappoint me. Clark sees me almost immediately and instantly goes on guard but then relaxes when he realizes who I am. "Lex," he says in a breathy voice that goes straight to my gut and also draws forth a smug smile at the fact that the sight of me can make him sound like that. 

"Clark," I reply with a nod and a smile. 

"What are you doing here?" he asks carefully and then sits down. He gestures for me to do the same and I take a seat across from him so we can look directly at each other. 

"I needed to see you," I tell him. 

"I'm sorry," Clark says as if any of this is possibly his fault. "I wanted to come see you but my dad was pretty upset when I came home late." 

"You were grounded," I acknowledge with a nod. 

"You heard?" 

"I got worried after a few days. I was told you were sick but that didn't seem realistic after a week or so" 

"So you checked me out?" 

I shrug. I know he's not upset at me even though he probably should be since I'm the reason he got in trouble in the first place. "Chloe told me." 

"Good," Clark says softly. "I didn't want you to think I was trying to avoid you because of what happened." 

"And which thing would that be? Me crying like a baby on your shoulder or you kissing me?" I ask. I know it's a dangerous question but hell it needs to be asked. 

"The kiss," Clark says quietly and with a slight blush that's very endearing. "I would never have a problem with you crying on my shoulder." 

My father has told me before that I'm too emotional. I've never thought he was right until that day. Too emotional, too much like my mother, not enough like him, a real Luthor in blood as well as name. I loved my mother though. She was a good person and maybe, just maybe, being like her isn't so bad after all, not if it means that I get to have Clark in my life. 

"It was unexpected," I offer. Unexpected but very nice. I'd be very open to doing it again but I'm not going to tell him that yet, not until I know how he feels about it. 

"Yes," Clark agrees. He's avoiding meeting my eyes. "It felt right at the time," he mutters. The way he's blushing can only be described as cute. 

"And was it?" I ask. My gaze on him is intent and he must be able to sense that because he shifts nervously. 

"Maybe," Clark admits. 

Ah, I had forgotten how young he is, innocent in a way that I never was. I wonder how much he even understands about what we're discussing. I know he's not completely innocent, he grew up on a farm and I'm sure he has a good idea how sex works but I wonder if he has any idea about what men do together. I can't imagine that it's covered in the sex ed class at Smallville High. 

"I liked it," I tell him gently. It's a big step and taking it surprises even me. It's not easy for me to trust people but I trust Clark, at least enough to admit this to him. 

"Yeah?" Clark asks and finally looks up to meet my eyes. What I see there takes my breath away. It's so open, so honest, so clear. He loves me. How could I have missed this before? How can I tell him that I can't return his feelings? I've only ever loved one person in my life, my mother, and she died when I was a child. I've never loved anyone this way and I don't know if I ever can. 

"Do you want to do it again?" Clark asks in a way only he can, innocent and seductive all at the same time. I groan softly and close my eyes. 

I should say no. He'll assume I feel the same way he does and when he figures it out, he'll only get hurt. I don't want him hurt, but I already know I'm not strong enough to refuse him. I nod my response and only hope that Clark will be able to forgive me later. 

He scoots over to sit next to me and reaches out to take my hand. His fingers feel incredibly warm on mine. "You're cold," he says and raises our clasped hands so he can examine them. 

"Always have been," I say with a shrug. I've always had cold hands. It's turned off a number of bed partners in the past, but I hadn't imagined Clark would mind. 

"Not anymore," Clark says with a smile and wraps my smaller, colder hand in his larger warm one. Then his lips are on mine for real this time. It's almost shocking like I wasn't expecting it or I've never been kissed before. But it's nothing like that at all, it's that I've never been kissed like this before. It's not that Clark's the best kisser I've ever been with, in fact from the way he's fumbling around I have the feeling that this might be the first time Clark's kissed anyone, but being with someone else has never felt as right as this. 

I groan softly, wrap the fingers of my free hand into the hair at the back of his head, and then open my mouth against his to kiss him more deeply. He moans into my mouth as my tongue slips into his. The taste of him is powerful and overwhelming. I'm drowning in Clark and I've never been happier in my entire life. I run my tongue over his teeth enjoying the sharp feeling of them and then across the soft skin at the top of his mouth. Eventually our tongues meet and wrap playfully around each other. I draw his tongue into my own mouth and he explores mine the same way I did his. My Clark's a fast learner. 

Clark's free hand is fumbling with my jacket, presumably to open it and gain better access to my body. I release the back of his head and reach down to help him with the buttons. When my jacket falls open his hand reaches in but doesn't venture under my sweater. I realize I'll need to show him how to do this as well. I reach out and easily unzip his jacket, then slip my hand under his own sweater. I gently caress the small of his back, making him moan loudly, and then let my hand travel up his broad back. 

Again Clark catches on fast and he slides his own hand down from where it was on my chest and slips it under my sweater. His hand moves up my chest again. His warm fingers feel like they're searing my skin. His hand continues its upward exploration of my chest, running over muscle and bone and flesh until he finds my left nipple. I gasp at the contact and briefly pull my mouth from his. 

I can feel Clark grinning against my mouth as I reestablish our kiss. He thinks he's found a way to drive me wild. He's right. Clark gently rubs his thumb over my nipple and I shiver. He pinches gently and it's all I can do not to cry out. It's so good. It's so right. Clark continues to play with the overly sensitive bit of flesh for another few minutes until I can't take it anymore. I need to feel his body against mine. 

I wrap my arm more tightly around his body and draw him against me. Our cocks meet through the fabric of our pants and we moan each other's name. Once again I'm almost overwhelmed with the feeling of rightness that being with Clark brings. 

"Clark?" The voice cuts through the fog in my mind and Clark and I break apart. The shock on his face mirrors what I feel. It's his father. 

"Yeah?" he calls back after a moment of breathless fear on both our parts. He sounds much more composed than I would have expected, much more composed than I am right now. He motions for me to move back into the shadows and I nod my understanding. 

"You've been out here for a while," Mr. Kent says. "I wanted to make sure that you hadn't fallen asleep like the other night." 

I can hear Clark's father starting up the stairs to the loft. Clark quickly stands up and moves to intercept him before he gets to the top of the stairs. I try to melt further back into the shadows. 

"No, I'm fine," Clark says as he starts down the stairs. "I was just about to come in." 

Ah look at that, he can lie when he needs to and he's not half bad at it either. I smile at the strange feeling of pride that knowledge brings. Maybe I'm rubbing off on Clark the same way he's rubbing off on me. 

"Oh good," Mr. Kent says. I listen and hear them both leaving the barn. I can imagine them walking in companionable silence back to the house, or talking happily together about some aspect of Clark's life. Some days I really envy Clark his relationship with his father. 

I wait for a good ten minutes after they leave before I slip from the barn. I use the time to silently freak out about what I've just done with Clark. I don't even know for sure how old he is. I only hope he's at least sixteen, not that it would have made much difference to his father if he'd discovered us, but at least I wouldn't have been arrested. 

I lick my lips and I can still taste him there. That sends a shiver of pleasure up my spine. I'm still not convinced that becoming involved in this type of relationship with Clark is a very good idea though. Clark's not the kind of guy you get casually involved with and I'm not the kind of guy that makes commitments, at least not to other people. 

When I exit the barn no one is around for which I am grateful. I start the long, lonely walk back to where my car is waiting. All I can think is that I have no idea where to go from here. 

* * *

"Lex?" he asks from the doorway of my office. 

I wasn't expecting anyone, so the sound of his voice startles me enough that my hand jerks and I draw a long line across the document I was in the process of signing. "Shit," I mumble to myself and look up at the young man standing in my door. He's leaning slightly against the doorframe, trying the look casual even though the expression on his face is hesitant and unsure. 

"Have I come at a bad time?" Clark asks softly. 

I haven't seen him in over a week. Since that night in his barn when his father almost caught us making out. He must know by now that I've been deliberately avoiding him. I haven't been subtle about it and Clark's anything but stupid. He's called a number of times during the week but I've always had him put through to my voice mail. The one other time he came to the house I asked Graham to tell him I was in a meeting and couldn't be disturbed. I had been reading some financial reports and trying not to think about Clark. I didn't return his calls and stayed in the house for the rest of the week except for when I needed to go out to the plant. 

Almost being discovered by Clark's father had unnerved me. Mr. Kent's arrival at the barn had taken something that had felt so right only seconds before and made it into something wrong and almost dirty. The most disturbing thing was that I knew the feeling of wrongness wasn't related to what Clark and I were doing, that was still right, but to the fact that we were deceiving Clark's parents. That's amazing in itself because I've never felt guilty for sneaking around with someone's kid before. Yet there it is and it makes me angry. 

Angry because I've always been able to lie to whomever I want about whatever I need to. It's always kept me safely at a distance from other people. They don't trust me and I don't trust them and because of that I never expect more than I'm getting. It's a protective mechanism but it doesn't work with Clark. I simply can't lie to him, that's why I eventually needed to show him my wrecked car and try to explain why I still had it. Keeping it and not telling him about it had started to feel too much like lying. Now, apparently, that inability has started to extend itself to his parents as well. Fuck, what is it about the Kents that suddenly made me grow a moral center? It's damned inconvenient that's for sure. 

"No," I tell Clark and close the file I was working on, "it's not a bad time." 

"Good," Clark says and crosses the room to sit in one of the chairs on the opposite side of my desk. He shrugs off his backpack and drops it heavily to the floor before sitting. 

I run my left hand over my head and stand up. I can't tell what he's thinking and it bothers me. Is he angry, upset, hurt or just amused at my silliness? I'm overwhelmed with the nervous urge to fiddle that always seems to overcome me in awkward social situations. Keep it in control, Lex. He doesn't need to know how much he unnerves you. I reach for one the blue bottles of water I keep on my desk. The bottle is cold and smooth and solid in my hand. Much better. I silently offer one to Clark and he accepts. I pass the second bottle to him and our fingers briefly touch on the cold surface. It sends a hot shock through my body and I jerk back suddenly. Clark fumbles with the bottle to keep from dropping it. I quickly open mine and take a long swallow, pretending that nothing strange has happened, and then watch as Clark opens his own bottle and drinks from it. 

"So, what can I do for you Clark?" I ask after watching the strangely erotic sight of Clark drinking. I know why he's here but for some reason I think that if I ignore the issue for long enough it might just go away. Even I know that's not likely. 

Clark makes this little amused sound and a slightly crooked smile appears on his face. He knows I'm being an ass and apparently it amuses him. 

"You're avoiding me," he says pointedly. I hadn't expected him to be so blunt but then I also hadn't expected him to see right through my bullshit and laugh at me either. It scares me that he seems to know me so well. I've spent my life trying to hide the knowledge he's apparently accessed on instinct alone. How is it possible that he knows me so well after such a short time? 

"I've been busy," I tell him even though I know he won't accept that as an excuse. 

"You've been busy before but you've always made time for me," Clark says and takes another drink from his bottle. My eyes are once again drawn to his neck and I watch as the cool liquid slides down his throat. Clark puts the bottle down heavily on my desk and my eyes flick back up to his face. "It's more than that. You're avoiding me. Because of what happened in the barn? 

I groan inwardly. He knows me too well and I know he won't take my bullshit on this. It's so dangerous to let this go on, to let myself continue to be exposed like this. 

"Clark," I say softly and am horrified to hear a note of pleading enter my voice. It may as well be a confession since I know he will take it as such. 

"Was it that bad?" he asks softly. His eyes are on the floor and he looks more than slightly embarrassed. Apparently this newfound boldness of his only goes so far. 

I almost tell him that's what it is, that he's young and I need someone with more experience, but it's not the truth and, if nothing else, Clark deserves the truth from me. "No Clark," I say while fiddling with the bottle in my hand, "it wasn't bad at all. It was wonderful." Wonderful in an awkward and fumbly way but still wonderful because it was Clark and that made it right. 

"Well then what's wrong?" he asks. He looks confused and slightly pouty all at the same time. 

"Clark," I sigh and continue to fiddle with my bottle, "you're just a kid." 

"No, I'm not," Clark snaps like this is a conversation he's had with someone before and I wonder who it was. His father quite possibly. 

"Yes, Clark, you are," I insist. "You're only fifteen." I cringe slightly when I say it because I had so hoped that it wouldn't be true, that he would be at least sixteen and therefore not completely off limits. 

"I'll be sixteen in January," he tells me. 

I know that too. It is amazing what a little money and some acquaintances in the right places can get you. Things like copies of people's birth certificates and adoption records for instance. 

I sigh because none of this is really the point. I place my bottle down on the desk and immediately wish it was back in my hand. I run my now slightly damp hand over my head again instead. 

"Besides," Clark continues, "I think they were wrong." 

Okay, now that's interesting. "Wrong?" I ask. 

"Well you know how I'm adopted?" Clark asks and I nod my acknowledgement. It's not exactly a secret and he had mentioned it soon after we met. "My parents found me. I was all alone and no one could locate my birth parents. The doctor my parents took me to thought I was three so that's why my birth certificate says I was born in 1986 but I think he was wrong," Clark tells me earnestly. 

I raise my eyebrow and give Clark a questioning look. This is a surprise, but it doesn't really change anything. "You think he was wrong?" I repeat. 

Clark stands up and moves across the room to stand beside me. I once again realize how tall he is as my eyes move up to stay on his face. It makes me feel shorter than I know I am. "Look at me," Clark demands as he nears me and gestures at his body. Oh believe me, Clark, I am. How could I not? I let my eyes roam up and down his body before looking up again to meet his eyes. 

"Yes?" I ask him. He looks very nice but I'm not supposed to be thinking that and I know it. Best to think of things that don't make me want to fuck Clark right here on the floor of my office. 

Clark looks down at himself before speaking. "I'm really tall," he tells me like its not completely obvious. 

I nod. He is tall. "You are," I agree. 

"Lex," Clark sighs. He's getting annoyed that I'm missing his point but I'm not sure what he's trying to get at. "Do I look fifteen to you?" 

Honestly? No he doesn't. In fact, I was surprised when I found out he was even in high school. Even then I thought he would be older, a senior or a junior at least, but finding out he was in the same grade as Nell's niece was shocking. How could he be that young? "No, you've never looked fifteen to me," I admit. 

"That's why I think he was wrong. I don't think I was three when my parents adopted me. I think I was at least four, possibly five." 

Clark is looking at me steadily. Those big eyes of his are pleading for me to understand, to accept his story and let it change my mind. I feel myself melting but not completely. I'm here in Smallville because I've let my dick run my life in the past, taken whatever I wanted and not worried about the consequences. I already have a juvenile record, the last thing I need is an adult one. At least juvenile records can be sealed. 

"You're still legally fifteen, Clark," I tell him softly. It's getting a little hard to breathe with him standing right next to me and staring intently into my eyes. "I know the law," I tell him and I do. I conveniently checked it out after I found out how old he is. "You're off limits until your next birthday." 

He looks annoyed, but before Clark can respond my cell starts to ring. The moment breaks and he steps back to allow me some room. "I'm sorry," I tell him and am surprised to find that it's true. I really do want to work this out with him. "I should take this." 

He nods and I retrieve the phone from my pocket. I'm glad for his acceptance. If he really is serious about wanting to be with me he'll need to learn that my time isn't always my own. I can be called away at any moment. 

"Lex," I answer smoothly. 

"Mr. Luthor," he starts with more than a hint of concern in his voice. It's Thomas Evans, the assistant plant manager and I can feel the headache starting just above my left eye. "I think you need to get down here. There's been an accident." 

I groan inwardly and briefly close my eyes. I really don't need this right now. "How bad it is?" I ask when I know I'm going to sound in control. I'm already looking around for my wallet and making sure I still have the car keys in my pocket. 

"Looks like one of the warehouse workers was ran over by a forklift," Evans is saying. "The paramedics are here now but I don't think it looks good. The forklift was transporting a drum of sulphuric acid when the accident occurred and it appears to be leaking," Evan tells me. 

"Shit," I snap softly. What a mess. I finally manage to find my wallet in my desk drawer and shove it in my pocket. I turn to Clark and ask, "Are you coming or staying?" 

"I'm sorry?" Evans asks, clearly confused as to what I mean. I ignore him. 

Clark nods quickly, grabs his pack and follows me from my office. It's touching that he has no idea what the call is about or where I'm going and yet trusts me enough to follow blindly. 

"And the forklift operator?" I ask Evans as I head towards the front door. 

"The emergency response team pulled her out unconscious. Looks like she fell during the accident and was overcome by some fumes. The paramedics have her on oxygen and she's regaining consciousness now. We'll question her as soon as possible." 

"Where did the fumes come from?" I ask. Clark and I are outside now and I lead us over to where the car I was using this morning is still parked. I'm going to need to speak to my staff about that. 

"We're not sure," Evans says. "We think that there may have been a leak in the ceiling of the warehouse that allowed water to collect on the floor." 

I sigh in response and start the car. Clark is seated next to me and gives me a sharp look. I know that he wants me to get off the phone before I start driving so as not to risk a repeat of the last time I almost killed both of us. No talking and driving, Lex. But he's right and I don't want either of us hurt, especially not him. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes," I tell Evans. "Keep everything under control until then." 

I hang up the phone with a flourish and look over at Clark. "Happy now?" I ask him. I should be annoyed that he's telling me what to do, but I'm not. I know he does it because he cares. 

"Yes," Clark says in all seriousness. 

I snort in response and then turn to start the car. Being with Clark is going to be challenging. I turn on the engine and start down the driveway. 

* * *

I ended up dropping Clark off at his parent's farm after deciding that bringing him into this type of situation probably wouldn't have been the smartest thing I'd ever done. I also knew that his father wouldn't have approved and, knowing small towns, word of his being at the plant would have gotten back to him before we ever did. He made me promise to call him when I got home and then kissed me gently on the cheek before hopping out the car and going inside. I shook my head after him. It's going to be harder than I thought to cool things between Clark and I until January. 

I was stuck at the plant well into the evening. I mostly watched other people do their own jobs and signed off on decisions. One of the workers, Gordon Blane, died around five while he was being transported to Metropolis General. Mr. Blane was the worker struck by the forklift. He had also been exposed to the leaking sulphuric acid and suffered multiple burns over a large area of his body. He eventually died from complications due to his internal bleeding and chemical burns. 

It only took the investigation team a couple hours to find the probable cause of the accident. The forklift operator, Cheryl Wilcox, reported that the brakes on the forklift failed. When the forklift was examined the brakes were indeed found to be faulty. One of the mechanics mentioned something about service cutbacks causing the accident and when I questioned him about that he told me of the maintenance cutbacks my predecessor, Jeffery Cross, made last spring. They meant reduced routine maintenance on equipment like the forklifts and longer waits for non-critical repairs. 

I eventually arrived home after nine. The initial clean up and investigation were finished and there wasn't much more to be accomplished at the plant. I went directly to my office and checked Jeffery's records for mention of his cutbacks. I found it in one of the files I'd reviewed when I first arrived. Apparently I'd read it but not thought it important enough to rethink. 

Now I'm sitting at my desk leaning back, feet up, and file in my lap indulging in various amounts of guilt and anger. Gordon Blane is dead and Cheryl Wilcox may be permanently injured. I could have prevented it if only I'd realized how important it was to improve the maintenance department. I read Jeffery's files, I even remember Gabe mentioning something about needing more maintenance workers. But I was so worried about balancing the books and not laying anyone off and, let's face it Lex, showing up my father that I had decided it wasn't crucial. I should have paid more attention to what Gabe was saying and now someone else is dead. When will it stop? I wish I had never managed to get myself sent out here to Smallville. I wish I had just gone on to Yale, accepted my fate and not challenged my father's plans. 

My phone starts ringing again. I consider not answering it at all. After the fifth ring I figure it's either urgent or the caller just doesn't know when to give up. "Lex," I snap into it when I eventually retrieve the thing from my pocket. 

"Hey, you were supposed to call me when you got home." It's Clark. 

"Clark," I say like he's the only thing saving me from myself. It's so good hearing his voice right now. Too good. I shouldn't let myself rely on other people like this. I know that. Dependency is something to be avoided at all costs, but oh it feels so good. Just this once, just with him, maybe it would be okay. 

"Are you okay?" he asks me seriously. I can almost feel the waves of concern coming through the phone. 

"He died," I say after a moment of silence. I don't know what else to say. I don't know what I need let alone how to ask for it. 

"I'm coming over, Lex. I'll be there in five minutes." He doesn't wait for me to respond, just hangs up the phone. How he plans to be here so quickly I don't know. It's a good ten minutes to his place by car if you follow the speed limit, which I know Clark would if he were driving, but I can't imagine that he is. He must have been exaggerating, that's all I can think. 

So Clark, my own personal hero, is coming to save me from myself yet again. I smirk at that thought, close the file I'm holding and place it aside before sitting up. I briefly wish I didn't need Clark, but I do. I can barely remember what my life was like without him in it. He's like a drug I just can't get out of my system. I don't even know if I want to. Clark's my addiction. That thought makes me smile. Now I'm just being melodramatic, it's really not that bad. I never used to sound like this. Still, it's kind of nice to have my very own savior at my beck and call. 

I'm still sitting in my office contemplating Clark when I hear him knocking on the front door. I know the night butler will answer, but I stand up to go meet Clark in the foyer anyhow. Randolph is just letting him in when I arrive. He's wearing the same jeans and shirt as before, but has also thrown on a red sweater. Clark's wearing no jacket even though it's the middle of November and it's freezing outside. I almost shiver in sympathy. I look down at my watch and can't believe what I see. He's made it here in four minutes. Four minutes. 

"Lex," he says and smiles when he sees me. It's a beautiful smile and it lights up his whole face. 

"Mr. Luthor," Randolph greets me as he turns to face where I'm standing behind him. 

"Thank you, Randolph. That will be all," I tell him by way of dismissal. He simply nods and leaves the room. 

"Lex," Clark says again and moves towards me. I should step back but I don't. He reaches out and puts his hand on my arm, pulls me close to his body, into a semi-embrace. "Are you okay?" 

I shake my head and then gently extract myself from his arms. If we're going to do this, we may as well be comfortable. "Come," I say gently and lead him into what might be called the living room in a normal house. It had a number of couches, a huge television and an entertainment center in it. In the far wall is a fireplace that is currently unlit. 

I choose one of the large couches, walk over and sit down. Clark takes the other end, wrapping his long legs under himself and turning to face me. I breathe deeply. Now that he's here I don't know if I can do this, play this confession and comfort game. 

"Someone died?" Clark asks after several long moments. 

"Yes," I admit and somehow that one words breaks the wall that was inside me. "Gordon Blane, a worker at the plant. Another employee ran over him with a forklift and spilt a chemical. He was burned by it." 

"I'm sorry," Clark says. He reaches out and places his hand on my knee. "I knew Mr. Blane, he bought produce from us. Had a thing for mom's tomatoes." 

I almost laugh at that even though I know he is being totally serious. I wonder if he even knows what he's said. From the still serious look on his face, I don't think he does. 

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault, Lex," he says with such confidence. No one has ever believed in me like he does. 

"The brakes on the forklift failed because it wasn't maintained properly," I tell Clark. He nods but doesn't say anything, just waits for me to continue. "I knew they were short staffed in the maintenance department. We made some cuts last spring that caused some real problems. I knew and I didn't fix it." 

Clark just sits there looking at me for a few minutes. That's it, I think, he's going to hate me now. He finally understands that I'm not worth the effort. "Why?" he eventually asks. 

"Because I needed to get the budget balanced," I snap and then realize he's not interrogating me. "Sorry," I say. "I was just trying to work it out so that I didn't need to lay anyone else off." 

"So you were trying to help as many people as possible?" 

"I still made the decision, Clark," I insist. 

"You did," Clark agrees. 

I sigh in frustration. This isn't helping. I still feel guilty and angry. I'm angry with myself because I let this happen and also because I feel guilty in the first place. Luthors don't do guilt it's non-productive. "I hate this," I snap and stand up from the couch. I hate sitting here not doing anything. I have feeling this way. I have being here at all. 

"Then why do you do it?" Clark asks. I can tell he's genuinely interested. 

"Because I have to," I say eventually. How can I not? It's what I've always been trained to do. Fate, destiny, my father's legacy, that's all tied up in it somehow. 

"No you don't. No one tells Lex Luthor what he needs to do," Clark says with a smile. 

"Except Lionel Luthor," I return. A stray part of my mind tacks 'and you,' onto the end but I don't know if I'll ever be ready to admit that to Clark. 

"I understand wanting to live up to your father's expectations," he tells me and I know that he does. Jonathan Kent isn't an easy man to live up to either. 

I just shake my head in response. I don't know how to reply. 

Clark shifts around on the couch then reaches out towards me. "Come here," he says softly and gestures towards himself. He looks perfectly innocent sitting there but I suspect that he's not. 

Do I dare? Let myself be held, comforted, loved? Can I afford not to? Can Clark save me from the fear, guilt and anger that have become so much a part of me lately? 

Eventually I nod and settle onto the couch, letting myself slip into his arms. He's warm and strangely soft considering how strong I know he is. His arms wrap around me, holding me tightly, offering security and stability. It's nice, more than nice actually. 

"It's okay to want to make him happy and proud of you," Clark tells me. "But you need to make sure you're happy at the same time." 

I know that, he's not telling me anything new. "I've spent almost every moment of the last ten years rebelling against my father, trying to show him how much I don't want the life he had planned out for me but I've never been able to tell him that to his face," I tell Clark. It feels good to finally admit that to someone. I don't want your god damned life, Dad. It feels good to be held by him and not judged. There's always been danger in admitting the truth before but here there's just trust and acceptance. 

"Well what do you want?" he asks. The fingers of his right hand have strayed and are running gently over my cheek while he holds me tightly with his left arm. 

I laugh softly. If I knew the answer to his question I probably wouldn't be here in Smallville. I take his hand in mine and bring it down to my chest again. He knows he's not supposed to be doing that. This is exactly what we talked about earlier. 

"I told you that I would help you change your life," he reminds me after a moment. "You need to figure out what you want." He gently pulls his fingers free from mine and they travel down my chest. He slowly slips them into the dark blue dress shirt I'm wearing. The little bastard is trying to seduce me while I'm emotionally vulnerable. The scary thing is that it just might work and right after I told him we couldn't do this. 

"Clark," I sigh. 

"Yes?" he asks. His voice is deep and rich in my ear. His hand is slowly undoing the buttons on my shirt. One, two, three. I watch with fascination as the fourth pops off and rolls across the floor. 

"We... we can't," I mumble. My protest sounds weak even to me. 

"Yes, we can," Clark insists as he undoes the last of my buttons. He pulls the bottom of my shirt from my pants and pushes it down my shoulders so it drops open in the front. Clark runs his large hand across my chest and stomach. "So smooth," he mumbles as he feels my skin. I shiver. He runs his fingers over my chest for what feels like forever and it suddenly dawns on me that as erotic as this drawn out exploration is, it really is an exploration. Clark's never done anything like this before. 

Clark's a virgin. The words seem to echo through my mind. A virgin. I've never been with a virgin before. It's scary. So many expectations, so many things that could go wrong. 

"Clark," I hiss. 

"Lex," he returns close to my ear and then leans down further to place a gentle yet passionate kiss on my mouth. 

I groan into his mouth. I'm going to regret this in the morning and possibly for some time to come but I know I can't stop now. 

"Clark," I breathe and pull away slightly. "In a minute I'm going to take you upstairs to my bedroom and do things to you that could get both of us in trouble." Most especially myself, I continue in my head. It's amazing how easy it has suddenly become to ignore that little voice of reason. "Before I do that, you need to be really sure this is what you want. If it isn't you can leave right now and nothing will change between us." I need to give him the choice. I need to confirm his consent. Things have to be balanced between us, I know that instinctively. 

To my surprise, Clark actually takes a moment to think about my words. I thought he would be a little too far gone to think overly hard. The way his cock is jammed into my back would sure seem to indicate that anyhow. 

"I want you, Lex," he says after a moment. His hand moves down my side to rest on my hip. 

"God," I groan when I hear his words. "The things you do to me." I roll over in his arms so that we're chest to chest, or maybe head to chest is a better description. He's so much taller than me. I move up his body and claim him mouth with my own. 

We moan together and he opens his mouth automatically under mine. My tongue dips into his mouth, tasting him, finding his own tongue. He groans and pushes up against me as our tongues meet. I can feel his cock pressed into my thigh. He's hard and incredibly hot. We kiss for several long moments. He starts to moan and move urgently against me. I wonder how long he will last this first time. 

I move back slowly, keeping my mouth on his, and maneuver us so that we're both sitting up or rather he's sitting on the couch and I'm sitting in his lap. I run my hands under his sweater and shirt and gently tug them up. I briefly break our kiss so that I can pull them over his head but as soon as possible, Clark leans down to capture my lips again. 

I pull us together so that our warm chests press against each other. Clark gasps into my mouth and I grin in self-satisfaction. His skin feels soft against mine. In the past whenever I've been with a man they've been too hairy and felt rough against my overly sensitive skin but Clark feels like heaven. It's like coming home when you didn't realize you'd gone out in the first place. I rub myself against him, our nipples briefly touching and it sends a spark of heat straight to my groin. Clark and I groan together and then I feel a hot wetness between us. It's not me; I'm still hard as a rock and begging for release. I look down and see the wet patch spreading between us. Clark. I smile. He groans. 

"I'm sorry," he says. He sounds mortified. 

"I'm not," I say and look up to meet his eyes, the smile still on my face. "I'm flattered that I can do that to you." 

"Yeah?" he asks shyly. His face is beet red. He's beautiful like this. 

"Yes," I confirm and reach up to kiss him. It's a quick kiss and then I pull away and climb off him. 

I reach my hand out and he takes it. "Come on, my bed is much more comfortable." I pull gently and he stands up. We both grin at each other stupidly for a few moments before I take him upstairs. 

I quickly lead him through the house and up to my bedroom. The lights are on low and the bed is turned down when we enter, courtesy of Randolph no doubt. I wonder how much of what we did downstairs he heard or saw. He's discreet though, that's why I pay him so well. 

I lead Clark over to the bed and just look at him for a moment. He's perfect, beautiful and mine. Mine. I run my hand lightly down the firm lines of his chest and stomach. He just watches me. Eventually my hand comes to rest on the waist of his jeans. "You're sure?" I ask one last time even though I don't know if I could stop now if he told me to. 

"Yes," he whispers breathily. "Please Lex." Ah, he begs so pretty and it makes my cock jump. 

"Yes," I tell him and then reach down to undo the button of his jeans. The zipper slides down easily and the pants fall low on his hips. I reach up with my lips and he leans down to seal our mouths together in a kiss. My hands travel around his body then slip inside his pants and under his briefs to cup his ass. Clark groans into my mouth again and shoves his tongue deep inside. 

I kneed his ass gently for a few moments before pushing his pants down. They slowly slide down his legs and pool on the floor in a dark pile of denim. Clark's underwear follows and his cock comes free. It presses hotly into my belly, fully erect once more. I look down and see it for the first time. Clark's uncut, I didn't expect that but I like it. It's just another part of what makes him different from everyone else. Clark's red, swollen, throbbing and large, very large. It goes with the rest of him though and I should have guessed from the size of his hands. I think about how that will feel inside me and shiver in anticipation. Not tonight though, definitely not tonight. 

I step back slightly, shrug off my shirt, and then quickly take off my own pants and briefs. I can feel his eyes watching me the whole time and I hear his breath catch when he finally sees me completely naked for the first time. 

"You're...," Clark says and then stops as the words he was going to say abandon him. 

"Hairless?" I supply with a slightly self-depreciating tone. This has embarrassed me my entire adult life. The hair on my head is one thing, but to be hairless everywhere isn't exactly normal. 

"Beautiful," Clark breaths and it's my turn to blush slightly. 

He reaches out and runs one of his fingers gently down the side of my cock. I shiver and my cock jumps. He smiles at his ability to make me react that way. God he's young, is all I can think. 

I sit on the bed and draw him down with me. We lie on our sides and our entire bodies are pressed together. Our cocks bump into each other heavily. He's leaking and it leaves a wet trail of pre-come along my length. We're kissing deeply, his tongue in my mouth and then mine in his. Back and forth we go in an endless duel. Our hands are all over each other and I can't keep track of all of it. 

Clark's warm hand wraps around my cock and I cry out. He's pumping lightly like he thinks I may break. "Harder Clark," I gasp. "Like its your own." He seems to understand because immediately his hand wraps tighter around me and he's pumping harder. Oh god. I groan loudly and he swallows it with a kiss. I'm going to come. 

I must say that out loud because I hear Clark mutter, "Then come Lex, come for me." His voice is like silk. I yell loudly into his neck as my orgasm is ripped from me. Oh god, it's never been like this. So intense, so comfortable, so good. 

I breathe heavily against him for a few minutes before catching my breath. I can still feel his erection poking my stomach. I smile softly and then slide down his body. 

"Lex?" he asks uncertainly as I start to move. I lick his side and stomach as I slip down. I feel his muscles flutter under my tongue. "You don't have to," he says as I gently reach out with my tongue and lick the end of his cock. 

As soon as my tongue touches him, he groans and surges up into my mouth. I am ready and open wide to accommodate as much of his length as possible. I suck firmly on his cock. He tastes so good, so clean. I can tell he won't last long. I run my tongue up and down his length and suck steadily. I need to hold his hips down to keep him from thrusting too hard against the roof of my mouth. 

It only takes a couple of minutes before he cries out and floods my mouth with his come. It's sweet and fresh, just like him and I love the taste. I swallow and then let him slide from me. 

"Lex," Clark whispers dreamily. I smile a secret little smile and move back up his body. I kiss him deeply, letting him taste himself in my mouth. He moans happily. 

I feel myself drifting off but retain enough brainpower to pull the blankets up and over us before we fall asleep. 

"Lex?" Clark mumbles sleepily as I move but then settles back against me as I still. 

"Ssh, go to sleep," I tell him. 

He nods sleepily against me and then wraps his arms tightly around my body. I fall asleep safe in his arms and am truly happy for the first time in as long as I can remember. 

* * *

"Lex," he snaps and I'm instantly awake. I jerk upwards but am held in place by the strong arms around me. Clark's arms. Clark. Mine. I smile secretly at that thought. 

I glance down at the bedside clock to see what time it is and then greet my not so unexpected visitor. "Good morning, Father." I had been pretty sure he would show up following the accident at the plant but I hadn't expected him to burst into my room first thing in the morning. 

"Alexander," someone else says. Ah, my father's brought reinforcements. I turn slightly in Clarks' arms and glance over my shoulder to see who it is. The man is dressed smartly and is standing so straight he looks like he just might have a pole up his ass. Lawyer. I recognize him from my teen years. 

"Jackson Donolson," I say by way of greeting. Jackson Taylor Donolson actually. The man with three last names. He's the one Father sent to meet me at Princeton when I was seventeen and got picked up for possession. 

Clark groans and his arms tighten around me. He's waking up. I'm actually surprised he's slept through as much as he has already. He must be quite the deep sleeper. "Lex?" he murmurs. 

I place my hand over the one he has resting on my stomach and squeeze it gently before moving it. "It's okay," I tell him softly and then sit up to face my father. "Get out," I spit. 

"What?" Clark asks in surprise. He must not have realized there was anyone else in the room. He rolls over to see what's happening. Clark gasps when he sees my father and Jackson standing in my doorway. He groans and then turns his face into the pillow. He must be embarrassed beyond words. I know I would be if it had been his father who walked in on us. 

"We talked about this, Lex," my father says and gestures towards my bed and the other occupant of it. 

No we hadn't. He'd talked and I'd listened. He's known I sleep with men as well as women for almost as long as I've done it. I'd arranged for him to find out. He's never liked it but he's become much more vocal about his objections over the last six months. Now that I've graduated he seems to think I should give up my vices, find an acceptable woman and make him another Luthor heir. 

I stare directly at my father and say in the deadliest voice I can muster, "Get out now." We end up staring each other down. I'm the picture of arrogant confidence on the outside, it's a look I've perfected, but I'm trembling inside. Clark's presence beside me gives me all the strength I'll ever need though and I know I'll win this time. 

Eventually my father gives in. "I'll be waiting for you in your office when you're... finished." He sneers as he says the last then turns on his heel and storms out. Donolson follows behind him and closes my door heavily. 

"Oh god," Clark moans from next to me. 

I place my hand on his bare back in an expression of support. "It's okay," I tell him. 

"No, it's not. It's embarrassing," Clark mutters. 

I reach out and take his shoulder. I pull gently and he rolls over so that he's once again lying on his back. I look down at his face and see that his eyes are closed and he's blushing deeply. He's beautiful like this. So young and innocent. Mine. The word bubbles up again from somewhere inside me. I remember thinking it last night as well. How strange. I've never felt overly possessive of my lovers before. Sex has always been transitory for me. I've had a lot of partners but have only had a couple of relationships and even those weren't completely exclusive. There's just something about Clark, though, that makes me want to stake a claim. 

"Your father, I assume," Clark says after a few minutes. His eyes are open now and he's staring at me. 

"Yes," I tell him, "my father and one of his lawyer drones. That one's Jackson Donolson. He's a bastard but good at what he does. It's the only reason my father keeps him around." That's not entirely true. I think my father also keeps him around because he knows the man pisses me off, although I'm sure he doesn't know why. One day I should tell him and see how many seconds it takes for him to fire Donolson. I smile slyly in anticipation of that day. 

"Lex?" Clark asks. He's obviously puzzled by my expression. 

"Sorry," I tell him. "I was just thinking about something else for a moment." 

"I should go, shouldn't I?" Clark asks softly. 

"Probably," I tell him after thinking about it for a few moments. Having him stay would be nice, I'd like to spend the morning with him and it would have the added benefit of pissing my father off, but it wouldn't be fair to put Clark through that. 

"Okay," Clark said softly. He sounds sad yet resolved. 

"Hey," I tell him and draw him into my arms. "I'm not embarrassed of you. It's just my father. He can be a real ass when he wants to be." 

"Sure?" Clark asks and turns into my embrace. 

I hold him closer and kick myself for not remembering to tell him how much I enjoyed what we did last night. "Very sure," I tell him. "If I could I wouldn't let you go anywhere for the rest of the morning. Just keep you here and have my wicked way with you." I smile cheekily and then lean down to give him a kiss. I can feel the heat rising between us again as I caress his lips with mine but I can't afford to let it go too much further. 

I pull away gently. He's smiling up at me, glowing really. So very beautiful and he doesn't even know it. "Really?" he asks. 

"Oh Clark, you have no idea," I tell him huskily and lean down to steal another kiss. "But we can't do this now," I say. It's as much to convince myself as it is to convince him. 

"Okay," Clark says but continues to kiss me. He presses his long body against mine. I don't think he had any intention of stopping anytime soon and I curse the twist of fate that has made me act as the responsible partner. 

I pull away with a laugh and a smile. "I really meant it when I said we couldn't do this," I tell him gently. As much as I'd love to, there's no way I'm going to allow him to convince me to abandon my better judgment twice in less than twelve hours. 

"Okay," Clark says then slides away and shifts himself up into a seated position. He surveys the room slowly and rubs his eyes. It was only a couple of weeks ago that he had first woken up in my bed although that time had been so much more innocent. Eventually his eyes come to rest on one of the windows in the room. "It's early, isn't it?" he asks me. 

"Yes," I tell him with a nod. He must be worried because he never made it home last night. "Just after six. It may still be early enough for you to sneak back in so that your parents will never know you didn't come home last night." Clark probably doesn't like lying to his parents but it's preferable to trying to explain to them why he stayed over at my house last night. 

"I don't think that would be a very good idea," Clark laughs. 

"Clark," I sigh. Does he not understand how dangerous it is to play with this? I can't afford to let this get out, at least not yet. I don't think even the most expensive lawyers would be able to prevail against Jonathon Kent's yelling all over town about exactly what I have done to his underage son. Not to mention that everything he would say would most likely be true and I don't know how effective I would be at denying it. I don't even know if I could deny it, knowing how much it would hurt Clark. 

"Well, Lex," he says with a crooked smile. If I didn't know better, I'd say he looks sly. Yes, definitely sly. Where has this Clark been hiding and what's he up to? "Considering that they think I'm spending the night at Pete's, finding me in my own bed would probably confuse the heck out of them. Besides, Dad will already be up by now." 

"Clark," I say sharply. I know I look stunned and it's probably because I feel that way as well. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you came over last night," I accuse him. He was trying to seduce me and apparently it wasn't a spur of the moment decision. 

"I told you I wasn't a kid," Clark says a little defensively. He thinks I'm mad at him. I'm not, not really anyhow. Those big eyes and innocent looks tricked me into thinking him incapable of any type of manipulation. I'm definitely rubbing off on him. I can only hope he doesn't pick up too many of my bad habits. 

"So you did," I say and shake my head. Imagine that. 

I pull the covers back, roll out of bed and stand up. I can feel Clark's eyes on my body as I move. I should have a shower but I don't want to tempt fate or Clark anymore than I already have. I cross the room to my closet to begin dressing. I hear Clark rise from the bed, presumably to do the same thing I'm doing myself. 

Clark makes a slightly disgusted noise from behind me and I turn around to see what's wrong. He's standing next to me bed and holding up his soiled pants and underwear. I grimace in sympathy. I remember having a similar experience when I was his age and how uncomfortable it is to wear your clothing afterwards. I grab two pairs of briefs from one of my drawers and walk over to where Clark's standing. 

"Here," I tell him as I hand over the garment. "These should fit. Unfortunately I don't have any pants quite your size, but at least you'll be a little more comfortable with those. 

Clark blushes as he takes the underwear from me. They're black silk and probably nothing like anything he's ever worn before. I wonder how hot it will make him to wear my underwear all day, feeling it next to his skin and imagining that it's me. "Umm, thanks," Clark mumbles and then bends over to pull them on. God, he looks hot wearing nothing but my briefs. 

I pull on my own underwear and then head back over to the closet to finish dressing. I carefully select black pants and a dark purple dress shirt. I dress and then add a matching jacket at the last moment. Can't be too defensively dressed when it comes to my father. 

I turn back to look at Clark and can't help but smile at how he looks. He's standing next to my bed dressed only in his pants. I remember that his shirt and sweater are downstairs. His hair is messy and flopped slightly to one side. He's smiling softly and watching me. I smile back. 

"I'll just go down and grab your shirts," I tell him. "Feel free to use the bathroom if you would like." 

"Thanks." 

I nod in response. I walk by him on the way to the door and can't help but stop and take him in my arms. "You're beautiful," I tell him as I wrap my arms around him and steal a small kiss. Clark blushes and stammers a negative response. He has no idea of his own attractiveness. It's endearing. "You are," I assure him and then exit the room before he can respond. 

It only takes me a few minutes to go downstairs and retrieve Clark's shirts. I don't run into my father, which is probably for the best. As much as I usually love rubbing things in his face, what I have with Clark feels like it should be worth more than that. Clark's shirts are sitting neatly folded on the couch. That must have been Randolph again. I'll need to remember to thank him somehow. I grab the shirts and then head back upstairs. 

Clark is standing in front of my full-length mirror when I walk back into my room. He's running his hands through his thick black hair, trying to tame it into some semblance of neatness. 

"I'm sorry I don't have a brush or anything," I tell him as I hand over his shirts. He takes them from me with a small shrug and quickly dresses. 

"It's okay," he says and turns away from the mirror. I'll have to remember to buy a brush and some hair care products for the next time he comes over for the night. Getting him some clean clothing he can keep here would be helpful as well. 

"We should get you some clothing that you can keep here," I suggest. 

"Really?" Clark asks. He's young but he seems to understand the significance of what I'm suggesting. 

"Yes, really," I assure him. We're standing next to each other in front of the mirror. He's behind me and slightly to my left. We look good together. Clark leans down and kisses me firmly. 

I wish I could stay here all day but I know I can't. I gently pull away from him and turn to look up into his eyes. "We should go," I say. He nods although I can sense his reluctance. "Where should I take you since you obviously don't want to go home?" 

"You can drop me off at Pete's," he tells me. I raise my eyebrow at him and he shrugs. "I can sneak into Pete's place as easily as I could my own. Besides, he's expecting me to show up sometime this morning." 

Oh so Pete's in on this little deception of Clark's parents as well? How interesting. "And what does Pete think you've been doing all night?" 

"I told him I was with you," Clark says with a smile. I want to protest the wisdom of telling Pete anything about the time we spend together but he starts speaking again before I'm able. "You took me into the city to see a basketball game last night, but we didn't get back until really late, so I stayed over here. In the guest room, of course," he grins cheekily at that comment. "The game was great, by the way." 

"Clark," I say as I smile and shake my head. "You're more devious than I imagined. Just don't make this into a habit, okay?" I insist with all seriousness. I like Clark for who he is. He's my moral compass and I need him for his innate sense of right and wrong. 

"Okay," he replies. 

"Good. So shall I take you to Pete's now?" 

Clark nods and I lead him over to the door. We head downstairs and towards the garage. I should be expecting my father to stop us before we can leave, but somehow I've almost forgotten he's in the house. He surprises me when he steps out of my office as we pass. 

"Going somewhere, Lex?" he asks coldly from behind Clark and I. 

"I'm taking Clark home," I tell my father as I turn to face him. "Don't worry, I'll return for your lecture, Father," I say with a sneer. 

"I'm sure your - friend - can find his own way home, can't you Clark?" My father says Clark's name like he's some disgusting thing on the bottom of his shoe. It makes me mad. I feel a white hot rage rise up from somewhere inside me. I actually take a step towards my father before Clark's hand on my arm holds me back and reins me in. I turn and give Clark a dark look but he doesn't back off. I can almost feel my father's eyes boring into my back, gauging the level of control Clark has over me. 

I turn back to face my father and find him smirking at me. "I'm taking Clark home," I tell him again. My voice is steady and determined and leaves no room for argument. I turn around again, take Clark by the arm and lead him down the hall towards the garage. He doesn't resist although I thought he might. I silently thank him for that. 

I grab the keys to the Mercedes when we enter. It's the closest to the door and my confrontation with my father has put an end to any patience I may have had. Clark must realize this because he says nothing to me when we get in the car and I tear out of the driveway like a madman. Eventually I realize that I have absolutely no idea where I'm going and am forced to ask Clark for directions to Pete's house. 

"Are you okay?" Clark asks softly after explaining the way to his friend's house. 

"He just really pisses me off," I tell him with a sigh. 

Clark nods and looks down at his lap. "He doesn't approve." 

I smile. Clark's so young, so idealistic. "It's not you personally," I tell him. It's probably true. There's no way my father could know Clark's age. At least not until I named him. Ah shit. Father probably had Clark investigated after my accident. I suppress a groan at that realization. 

"He just doesn't want you to be gay," Clark reasons. 

"I'm not," I tell him. "There have been women in my past as well. But, yeah, that's basically the objection." 

Clark thinks for sometime before speaking again. "Do you want to end this?" he asks and gestures between us to emphasize his meaning. 

"No, I think I'll keep you," I tell him with a smile. It comes out sounding like a joke and I'm glad. Clark's so young and I don't want to scare him, but I'm serious. I don't want to loose him now that I've found him and I'll fight anyone who tries to take him from me. That realization surprises me. 

"Okay," he says and that's that. Asked and answered. We're together. A couple. An actual relationship. That's a little overwhelming. "Do you know what he wants?" 

"To tear a piece off me about what happened at the plant yesterday, no doubt," I say with irritation in my voice. "And to make sure I don't do anything 'emotional' like admit that Luthor Corp may have screwed up." I snort at that thought. We had screwed up. We should do something about it but I know we won't. That's just not how business works. 

"Oh," Clark says. I don't think he's quite sure how to respond. My relationship with my father isn't exactly normal or healthy. 

"He'll yell for awhile and tell me what to do. He might leave his lawyer drone behind but he won't stay more than a couple of hours. At least I won't have to deal with him for too long." 

"Is it always like a war between you two?" Clark asks. 

We're stopped outside Pete's house now so I turn to look at Clark. "That's how he is. Hell, that's how I am. That's just how Luthors are." I know I sound sarcastic but on some level I really do believe what I'm saying. 

"That's not true, Lex. You're not like that," Clark insists. 

I laugh ironically. "Yes I am." 

"Maybe," he admits although he sounds doubtful, "but you don't want to be." 

I'm silent for a long minute. He's right, I don't. "No, I don't." 

"You need to tell him," Clark says softly. I know what he's talking about and once again he's right. Someday I will need to tell my father that I don't want what he has to offer, but I'm not ready yet. 

"Yes, but not today. One day when you're old enough and we can run away together," I say. It sounded like a joke in my head, but as soon as it's out of my mouth I realize it isn't. I think Clark realizes it too because he breathes in sharply and doesn't respond. I kick myself for my own stupidity. I have no idea where that came from. 

"I... I should go," I eventually stammer. I should. My father and his lawyer drone are waiting for me and Clark needs to sneak into Pete's house before Pete's parents wake up. 

"Okay. I... thank you," Clark says. I'm not sure if I'm being thanked for the ride or something else. 

"And thank you," I reply. We share a smile and I know we were both thinking of what happened between us last night. 

I lean over and kiss him thoroughly. Everything is going to be okay between us even after my comment about us running away together. It's good to know that my stupidity alone isn't enough to destroy what we have. I pull away from him slowly. "Go, Gorgeous, before I change my mind." 

Clark blushes at the complement but then nods and opens the door. "I'll call you tonight," he promises me and then climbs out of the car. I watch him walk to the house and disappear around the back. 

I drive back to my house in record time. I'm so preoccupied with my thoughts that I barely remember anything of the drive once I'm home. Clark would worry if he knew. I'm mad at my father for trying to make Clark feel like shit. I'm mad at myself for allowing a situation that would bring my father here from Metropolis to occur in the first place. I'm worried about my relationship with Clark and whether it will end before it's even really started. 

By the time I walk into my office and sit down at my desk I'm calm, collected and in control. There is no other way to be around my father, not if you want to be taken seriously anyhow. These are the times I envy Clark and his easy relationship with his father the most. 

When I sit down, Jackson is glaring at me and my father looks thoroughly pissed. It's not often that he lets that much emotion show through the shell he's built around himself. 

"You wanted to speak to me, Father?" I try to keep my voice as even as possible, but I still detect the slight sneer underlying my words. I'm sure he can hear it as well. 

"I'm not going to lecture you on the wisdom of taking underage boys to your bed, Lex." I groan inwardly at his words. Father's just as smart as I am and he's managed to put it together and figure out who Clark is. "You're old enough and smart enough to realize what the consequences are here. But understand this: if you get caught, you're on your own with this. I will disown you, Lex. This is the last straw." I freeze at his words. I'm quite honestly shocked. I've pissed him off in the past, usually intentionally, but I don't think he's even been quite this angry. Or quite this worried about his own reputation, I realize. He's definitely never threatened to disown me before. 

Those words sit like a brick in my stomach. For all my big words about not wanting the future my father has planned for me, I don't have the first idea of how to live without his money. But I won't give up Clark, I know that the same way I know I need to breathe. So that means we're just going to have to be extra careful until his birthday and after it as well. "I'm not going to get caught," I tell him coldly and with much more confidence than I actually feel. We stare at each other for several long minutes, gauging each other, each of us deciding how serious the other is. 

Eventually he nods sharply. He'll accept that for now, but my father is not happy. He's dangerous when he's like this and I will need to be on guard lest he decides it's just easier to remove Clark than to argue about him. 

"Now, what the hell happened at the plant yesterday?" my father demands. 

I sneer. "I'm sure you've read my report by now." 

"Yes, Alexander, we have," Jackson says smoothly and pulls what must be a copy of my report from his briefcase. I refuse to react. I know he uses my full name to make me uneasy. He thinks it unnerves me because he called me that when we fucked. He's wrong. It just reminds me how much control I really have over him because Jackson, like my father, has no idea what I'm capable of. 

"What's all this crap about cut-backs contributing to the accident?" 

"Jeffery made sharp cut-backs in maintenance personnel. That forklift hadn't been inspected in months," I insist. I knew this was why he had come all the way here to yell at me. How dare I suggest that Luthor Corp was in any way responsible? 

"Donolson, what's the manufacturer's recommended inspection schedule for that vehicle?" 

"Every eight to twelve months, sir," Jackson replies but he's looking straight at me. 

"And how long ago was the last inspection?" my father continues. 

"Eleven months and three days ago," Jackson says smoothly. 

"So, still within the manufacturer's recommendations?" 

"Yes, sir," Jackson returns smoothly. 

"We used to do inspections every six months," I say. 

"And it was too much. There was no reason for it and it was a waste of money. Cross understood that," my father snaps. Cross understood money and I don't, I know that's what his implication is. I'm too emotional. It's always the same argument. He sent me out here to change me, to make me into him, but it's not working and boy is he pissed off. 

"If we had stayed on the original schedule, we probably would have found the problem and fixed it long ago." 

"There's no way to know that and I don't want to hear anymore about it. You will rewrite this report so it makes no mention of this 'theory' of yours," Father snaps. He grabs my report roughly from Jackson's grip and throws it onto my desk in disgust. 

I look down at my report and then back up at my father. "No," I say clearly. 

"You will if you want to stay here with your little friend," he tells me calmly. There's a gleam in his eye that's just daring me to defy him. If it were just my own ass on the line, I'd challenge him in a heartbeat, but that gleam is Clark's future and I won't jeopardize that for anything, not even my own self-respect. 

"You haven't spoken to anyone about this have you?" 

"No," I tell him. Just Clark and Father doesn't have to worry about him. 

"What about the boy?" he demands. Some days I wonder how he does it. He has this strange ability to almost always tell what I'm thinking. 

The look on my face must give it away because he doesn't wait for me to answer. "Do I need to buy him off?" 

"No," I snap. The very thought of buying Clark off disturbs me. He cares for me; he'd never hurt me, that's just how he is. 

Father glares at me. I can tell he's judging the truth of my reply. "You better be right or his parents will find themselves sued faster than you can imagine." 

"You bastard," I say harshly. 

Father smiles coldly at me and then turns to leave. "Be careful, son. You know what I'm capable of." His voice is full of irony and in this moment I hate him more than I ever have before. He leaves my office and motions for Jackson to follow him. I'm positive Jackson will return later to make sure I'm following Father's orders, but for right now I'm all alone. 

I wish I could call Clark but I don't know Pete's number and even if I did, it would be too early. At the same time I wish that I didn't feel this overwhelming need to connect with him. Clark's my weakness. I know it and now, unfortunately, my father knows it as well. I wish that weren't the case but there's very little I can do about it now except try to protect Clark as best as I can from him. 

I sigh and turn on my computer. I may as well get started on the modifications to my report. There's very little else I seem capable of at the moment. 

-end-  
12/17/01 


End file.
